Free Overtime in the Boss's Bed by Nicola Marsh

pausing to slick his hair out of his eyes, oblivious to his drenched state.
    Her knees started wobbling again, and it had nothing to do with the close call with Mother Nature and everything to do with one very sexy tycoon, his business shirt plastered to his broad chest, his pants clinging to long, lean legs and the droplets clinging to his too-long-to-be-legal eyelashes.
    The guy was seriously gorgeous, and if she had to obliterate her fear, focussing on him could do it.
    Nothing fazed him. Even now, when most guys would be annoyed their property had been damaged and they’d had to make an impromptu dash into a cyclone-like storm to check it out, he was nothing but commanding and calm and in control.
    She liked it. Way too much for comfort.
    He glanced across at her, rolled his eyes and made a chattering action with his hand. She could add patience to his list of attributes, especially if the insurance assistant on the other end of the line was being verbose.
    ‘That’ll be fine. Just send him out tonight. We’ll take care of the rest tomorrow. Right. Thanks.’
    He snapped the phone shut, wiped his brow in relief. ‘Phew. All that red tape just to get a hole patched in a roof.’
    ‘It’s their job.’
    She shrugged, suddenly feeling out of place. All shewanted to do was duck back to the cottage and hide away. Away from gallant, commanding bosses with perceptive eyes.
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘This.’ She gestured to the raging storm outside, wincing as another crack of thunder clapped over the house. ‘I can’t believe it…’
    ‘You can’t control the weather. Don’t worry, you can move back into the cottage as soon as the roof is fixed.’
    The severity of her predicament slammed into her with the force of one of those damn bolts that had caused this mess in the first place.
    ‘You’ll stay here, of course.’
    She wanted to protest, knew it would be foolish. Of course she’d stay—where else could she go?
    It wasn’t as if she didn’t know Callum. But standing here, watching raindrops glitter on his spiked lashes, seeing the concern in his eyes, she felt as if everything was spinning out of her control and moving way too fast.
    ‘Thanks.’
    She managed a wan smile before her teeth gave an almighty clatter and he swore, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her towards the stairs.
    ‘Come on, you need to get out of that wet nightie.’
    ‘A tried and true line, I’m sure,’ she muttered, immediately warmed by his strong arm around her, trying desperately not to lean into him.
    ‘Whatever works.’
    She tilted her head to gaze up at him, buoyed by his teasing smile.
    Everything would be okay.
    She still had a roof over her head, a job and a temporary place to stay. She might have overreacted to the thunderstorm but now, cradled in the comforting crook of Callum’s arm, she was infused with a sense of security she’d never experienced before.
    He stopped outside a door, released her.
    ‘Guest room. You’ll find towels, toiletries and robes in the bathroom. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll rustle up some supper?’
    ‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry.’
    ‘Even for designer chocolate?’
    ‘How did you know?’
    He smiled and her heart gave another thumpety-thump. ‘I spied your stash when I was in the cottage checking for roof damage.’
    ‘Yeah, but that doesn’t explain how you’d have any.’
    His mock-offended expression made her laugh. ‘I’ll have you know I’m a man of refined tastes.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘My last PA was addicted to the stuff too, and she left it when she eloped with her fella.’
    He joined in her chuckles, and despite her uncomfortably clingy nightie, her bedraggled hair and the post-adrenalin exhaustion seeping into her bones, she could have stood there trading banter with him all night.
    ‘You need a shower too.’
    She said the first thing that popped into her head, her gaze dipping to the shirt plastered to his chest before wrenching upwards,